Eating roadkill

Critter fritters

Self-parody flourishes in Appalachia

WHEN driving to a roadkill cook-off the sight of a flattened raccoon, tail poking up out of the asphalt like the handle on a frying pan, induces a jittery effect in the stomach. Each autumn around 15,000 people descend on Pocahontas County in West Virginia, more than doubling its population, to celebrate a strange kind of harvest festival where the menu includes, besides raccoon, squirrel and bear.

At least 300,000 “wildlife-vehicle collisions” happen every year, according to the Federal Highway Administration. This is probably a whopping underestimate, since most incidents go unreported. State Farm, an insurer, guesses that 1.2m deer are hit by cars and trucks every year. Those who take their roadkill seriously praise the meat for its freshness and the absence of additives. It also has an ethical cachet: better battered by a car than battery-farmed.

Marlinton’s festival started in 1991 as a joke, says Dave Cain, an organiser. It received a boost when West Virginia passed a law in 1998 making the gathering of roadkill legal. This is not the case in every state: Washington, Texas and California forbid the practice. The roadkill cook-off won notoriety when the state’s then governor, Joe Manchin, anxious to modify West Virginia’s unsophisticated image, allegedly suggested to a reporter that he “kill the sonofabitch” who organised it. (He denies saying this.) “That was the best publicity we ever had,” says Mr Cain. The following year Mr Manchin, who is now a senator, visited on his Harley-Davidson.

This year, a bluegrass band played under maple trees while 13 teams of cooks stirred pots containing unusual animals. One team was celebrating the 35th anniversary of its members’ graduation from a local high school. Another was overseen by a re-enactment cook, who uses only old-fashioned utensils and naked fire.

None of the food had actually been run over, despite teasing recipes that began: “Pry deer from underneath vehicle and gut if necessary (sometimes vehicle will take care of gutting).” This being America, one sign asked customers to warn the chef of their allergies. The rules of the contest stipulated that 20% of each dish should be made from wild game. Some took this as an invitation to shock. Mixed with sweet potato, apple sauce and pork sausage, both raccoon and squirrel taste delicious. Bear, however, cannot be made palatable—even by a sprinkling of Parmesan.